


an accidental fracture

by yanak324



Series: an accidental fracture universe [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And love, College Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Mostly Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:59:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/pseuds/yanak324
Summary: They haven’t figured out what this means yet. So for now, he’s the guy who she’s sleeping with behind her family’s back, which probably means she should stop staring.A sprained ankle forces Arya and Gendry to confront a certain truth about their relationship. Modern AU - College Setting. No Spoilers.





	1. rest

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came randomly to me when I rolled my ankle last week. Mostly though, it's an excuse to write some good ole fashioned smut and also to try my hand at a modern AU in prep for this other multi-chapter story I'm planning. This one is definitely more lighthearted and fun to write. Would love to know what you guys think. As always, the characters are not mine. Enjoy :)

She hears the crack before she feels it. 

One minute, she’s debating the merits of Braavosi theatre with Sansa and the next, she’s on the ground, clutching her right leg to her chest, watching her ankle swell to double its size. 

“Arya! Oh my god.” 

Within seconds, both her sister and Jon, who had been walking a few steps behind with Gendry, are on her, asking her if she’s okay – obviously not – and if anything else hurts – no, just her pride. 

The strong, calming presence behind her makes Arya look up. Seeing Gendry’s striking blue eyes looking over her with concern momentarily distracts her from her injury. 

But not for long.

“Fuck.” 

Arya grits her teeth against the pain shooting up from her ankle. 

“You alright?” Gendry crouches down behind her, placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder. 

For a moment, it’s like no one exists but them, just her and Gendry, her –

Her what? 

Well she’s not entirely sure what they are to each other now. 

Two months ago, he was her best friend, and he’s still that, but now he’s something more too. 

Now he’s someone who kisses her regularly, who stays the night occasionally, and somehow always manages to give her toe-curling orgasms, after which he usually feeds her. The latter is probably the most important, since Arya is shit at doing that for herself.

They haven’t yet figured out what this shift means for their overall relationship, so for now, he’s also the guy who she’s fucking behind her family’s back, which probably means she should stop staring. 

Arya tears her eyes away from Gendry’s and answers Jon instead. 

“I’m fine, just hurts like a bitch.” 

“I’m calling campus security to take you to the nurse’s.” Sansa announces and is already typing on her phone when Gendry stops her. 

“No, it’s alright.” 

Three heads whip up to look at him as he removes his hand from Arya’s shoulder. 

“She weighs nothing and it’s a five-minute walk from here. I’ll take her.” 

Before Jon or Sansa or even Arya can protest, Gendry scoops her up as if she does in fact weigh nothing and skips down the steps with far more ease than Arya had managed a few minutes ago. Jon and Sansa trailing not too far behind. 

“Did you just body shame me?” She whispers to him as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Gendry looks sharply down at her, ready to defend himself, only to discover that she’s merely teasing him.

“Don’t make me drop you.” He threatens playfully and warmth blooms in her belly at the smile he gives her, reminiscent of the one she wakes up to sometimes. 

The pain has now subsided to a manageable throb but Arya inhales deeply anyway, an excuse to breathe in the hint of cologne and sandalwood that she’s now forever associated with Gendry.

It’s a little jarring to realize that it’s been merely days since he’s been over and she actually _misses_ him. 

Ugh. 

She doesn’t even want to think about the amount of teasing that will happen when Sansa and Jon eventually find out about them. 

xxx

“Alright, so you’ve got your pain meds here, take _only_ one every 6 to 8 hours. You’ve got water, snacks, all your assignments for the week. I also made a batch of that chicken stew you like so you can pop that on the stove whenever you’re ready.” 

Arya tries to temper her annoyance as she watches her sister flit around her room, not staying still for a single moment. 

“Sansa, I have a sprained ankle, not a terminal illness.” 

The older Stark stops and fixes Arya with a raised eyebrow and hands clasped behind her back – a signature Sansa Stark pose and one that makes Arya smile in spite of herself. 

“And how do you plan to take care of yourself while your roommate is still out of town for the next three days?” 

“Gendry will be here. He lives only two blocks away and said he’d stop by if I need anything.”

In fact, she had promised to text him as soon as her sister was gone so he could come over and they could finish the game of Fortnite they’d had to put on hold when Jon and Sansa came to visit. 

“Gendry, huh.” 

Sansa fixes her with a wary stare that Arya tries to avoid at all costs. Her eyes flicker to her ankle instead. The campus nurse confirmed that nothing is broken, but it is a pretty bad sprain meaning Arya will have to stay off it for at least two weeks. 

The idea of being bed bound for that long makes her want to rip her hair out, but the prospect of having the apartment (and Gendry hopefully) all to herself for the first time in months makes the whole thing somehow more tolerable.

If only Sansa would stop fussing and go catch her train already. 

“Yes, Gendry. You know the guy who practically grew up with us? Jon’s college roommate? One of Robb’s groomsmen?”

“I know who Gendry is, Arya.” Sansa rolls her eyes, but her suspicion doesn’t waver. 

Arya refuses to budge as well, keeping her expression blank as she and Sansa engage in a staring contest that’s incredibly reminiscent of their time as pre-teens.

Sansa’s phone breaks their stalemate and Arya is pretty grateful for it. She exhales a breath while Sansa sends a quick text message before tucking the mobile back in her jean pocket. 

“Jon’s here to pick me up. Promise to call me if you need anything?” 

Arya resists the urge to roll her eyes – some things will surely never change and one of them is Sansa’s mothering tendencies. 

She ignores the impracticality of what her sister is asking for and nods anyway, “yes, I will. Now can you come give me a hug, since I’m immobile and then go catch your bloody train?”

Sansa’s face lights up in a rare way and she squeezes Arya a bit too tightly before grabbing her purse and practically floating out of the room. 

Arya thinks she’s in the clear when her sister suddenly pauses at the door.

“Have fun with Gendry.”

The wink Sansa throws over her shoulder is downright devilish, and Arya wishes her game console wasn’t in the living room so she had something to throw at her.

“Goodbye, Sansa.” 

Her sister’s laugh carries through the small hallway and out the front door of the apartment. 

Arya falls back on the bed, grateful for a few minutes of solitude. A moment later, her phone buzzes from the nightstand and she doesn’t suppress a smile when she sees a text notification from Gendry. 

**Coast clear?**

**Yup. Bring pizza.**

**Yes, ma’am.**

And no, she does not blush at all when a few seconds later, he also sends her a kissing emoji. 

Nope. Not at all. 

xxx

Two hours and several very competitive games of Fortnite later, Gendry is finishing off their pizza when Arya decides to bite the bullet and tell him.

“I think Sansa is onto us.” 

He looks at her mid-chew and she really shouldn’t find his bewildered expression so adorable, but she does. She leans forward and swipes some sauce from his bottom lip almost entirely out of habit. 

Gendry swallows quickly and wipes his mouth with a napkin, before pivoting to face her.

“But how? I literally stayed as far away from you as possible while she and Jon were visiting this week.” 

Arya shrugs and looks down at her lap, a weird sense of insecurity washing over her, mostly brought on by Gendry’s panicked reaction.

“I don’t know. Sansa knows everything.” 

There’s an awkward silence between them now and she hates it. The past two months have been pretty blissful, just the two of them figuring out this new thing between them. Now, it feels like other people are infringing on their little bubble and Arya doesn’t like it.

Still, she’s never been one to cower from a difficult situation. 

“Would it be so bad if she knew?” 

She peers at him timidly, and Gendry instantly picks up on her uncertainty. He moves closer, his warm hand landing on her bare thigh as he forces her to keep eye contact. 

“Oh, Gods no, Arya. Of course, it’s not bad. You know I’d be more than delighted to run to the middle of the quad right now and announce to everyone that you’re my girlfriend. I just thought _you_ wanted a bit of time before you told your family. Wasn’t that the plan?” 

He is right. It was her idea to keep this quiet, mostly because of that deep-seated fear that this was too good to be true. If she and Gendry somehow imploded, it would be much easier to deal with the heartache if her family knew nothing of it.

At least, that’s how Arya thought before. Before she realized this thing between them wasn’t going away. 

That this wasn’t just a fluke or something that they needed to get out of their systems. If anything, the feelings she has for Gendry have only gotten stronger over the past few weeks. It’s as if they’ve broken the dam and now there’s no turning back. 

For someone who eschewed romance and considered boys to be more trouble than their worth, Arya has to contend with the fact that it is entirely possible she has fallen in love with her best friend. 

What’s more startling is how she’s not scared at all, not even a little bit. In fact, the idea of Gendry telling the entire campus that she is his girlfriend makes her swell internally with pride, makes her feel elated in a way she’d never felt before, not with Micah, or with anyone else. 

Arya isn’t really sure if she’s ready to confess all this to Gendry, at least not at the moment. So instead, she does her best to awkwardly scoot forward until she can rest her chin on his shoulder. 

“You’d really do that?” 

Being this close to him reminds Arya just how long it’s been since they’ve been _this close_. She tries not to get lost in his scent, the warmth of his blue eyes, and sturdiness of him besides her. 

It’s pretty obvious that Gendry has missed this too. His hand purposefully drops to the inside of her thigh, skimming the hem of her shorts as the other dips underneath her tank top. 

“I’d make t-shirts too,” His breath skirts her cheek and Arya shivers.

“Then maybe Ned Dayne can finally stop asking you for coffee after every goddamn fencing practice.” 

If bewildered Gendry is adorable, then jealous Gendry is downright lethal to her senses. Arya knows he’s possessive and has been especially irritated by the persistence of her Dornish fencing partner. 

Although, the idea of Gendry making t-shirts that say “Arya Stark is my girlfriend” is difficult to pass up, there’s a drive in her to remind him that it’s not Ned Dayne who can make her laugh until soda comes out of her nose; it’s not Ned Dayne who can turn her on just by looking at her; and it’s certainly not Ned Dayne who steals her breath away every time she sees him. 

Spurred by her urgency to show Gendry exactly who she wants, Arya completely forgets about her injured ankle and tries to crawl into his lap, which causes a spike of pain to shoot up her calf. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there.” Gendry grasps her hips to keep her in place, while Arya curses under her breath.

“Stupid ankle,” She mutters, trying to readjust to a comfortable position, when all of a sudden, Gendry pushes her back. 

He eases her against the back of the couch, letting her stretch both legs out as he settles between them. At this angle, it’s nearly impossible to miss how dark his eyes have gotten. 

“You have to be careful,” He urges her quietly, lips just inches away from hers. It’s so bloody hard to concentrate on anything other than Gendry right now. The intensity of his gaze, the weight of him between her thighs, and the steady trace of his fingers along her bare skin. 

“I don’t want to be careful,” she whispers back, pulling her bottom lip in to stifle a moan as Gendry nuzzles her neck.

“I know and that’s what I love about you,” he murmurs against her skin and then curls his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, “ but maybe think on the bright side here. This is a good time to let me take care of you for a change, hmm?” 

Arya knows exactly what he’s implying. She’s impatient in all aspects of her life, sex included. It’s no secret that she prefers to be on top most of the time, holding onto control for as much as she can. It’s always been that way with her, but over the past few weeks, Gendry has taken every opportunity to show her just how amazing it could be when she does relent a little. 

Right now, his soft, teasing voice and wandering hands are making quite the case for why she should just listen to him. 

“Okay, Mr. Waters, but you’d better make it worth my while.” 

Gendry pulls back and smirks at her in a way that really should be considered illegal. 

“Challenge accepted.” 

Arya fully expects him to kiss her, but instead, he carefully slides her shorts down her legs along with her underwear, leaving her thighs trembling, and heat pooling low in her belly.

With her shorts gone, her skin feels feverishly sensitive and her nipples harden beneath the flimsy tank she’s wearing. Gendry’s eyes widen as he realizes she’s not wearing a bra.

Arya smiles lazily at him as she slides one hand beneath her shirt and starts to play with her nipple.

In the bright afternoon light, she can clearly track the flush rising on his cheeks and the way his mouth falls slack with arousal as he traces her movement. But he doesn’t stay that way for long. Gendry leans down and raises her injured ankle over his shoulder, pushing her other leg out and leaving her wide open for him. 

Her throat runs dry as he lowers his torso and wastes no time in pulling her apart with his fingers and licking right into her clit. 

There’s just the tiniest bit of pressure from her ankle pressing against his shoulder blade, but it’s nothing compared to the delicious bursts of euphoria Gendry leaves in his wake as he starts to lick and suck on her in earnest. 

He simply gives her no quarter, keeping her pinned to the couch as his mouth wreaks havoc on her. 

It’s almost too much when he unexpectedly stops and turns to kissing her thighs, while his fingers tease at her entrance.

Arya fully expects his fingers to find their way inside her and curl just enough to have her coming in seconds, but Gendry surprises her again, finding his way under her tank top instead. 

It’s only then that Arya realizes that her own hand is still on her breast. 

When Gendry starts to gently palm the other to match her rhythm, and his tongue settles back on her clit, the need to come nearly unravels her.

But unlike her, Gendry has patience in spades, and even as she begs him to let her come, he doesn’t waver from his treacherously slow rhythm. He knows exactly what will keep her writhing with pleasure and he won’t stop until she’s gone nearly mad with desperation.

After not being with him for nearly a week, Arya can’t even will herself to care.

Not when his tongue slides against that spot that makes her back arch off the coach and his name to pass through her lips over and over again. Not when every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire and every inch of her is tingling. She’s so, so incredibly close, she just needs a little more, just a little bit…

In her half-dazed state, she pries her eyes open, and the image of Gendry, _her_ Gendry buried between her thighs, his mouth enthusiastically latched onto her pussy, is what finally does her in. 

Arya feels her orgasm everywhere, in the throb of her clit, the tightening of her nipples, the indentation of Gendry’s fingers against her inner thighs, and in the erratic beat of her heart that threatens to tear through her chest at any minute. 

The delicious ache slowly subsides into a pleasant afterglow and Arya revels in it for several long minutes, an arm draped over her eyes. 

Gendry eventually slides his hand from underneath her shirt and presses a barely perceptible kiss on her hipbone, making her shiver. It’s almost too much in the best way possible.

“You okay there?” 

The mix of pride and amusement in his tone is difficult to miss, and Arya smiles in spite of herself, peering at him from underneath her arm. 

“I’d say I’m better than okay.”

The smile he gives her in return sparks something inside her that she’s not ready to confront yet. At least not while she’s still very much naked in front of her very hot boyfriend and he’s very much not. 

She rises on her elbows. 

“The real question is whether I have enough time before you have to go teach to properly thank you.” 

Her legs are now draped over his lap and she doesn’t hesitate rubbing her heel along the prominent bulge in his jeans. 

She’s not sure how it’s possible for someone who just ate her out so spectacularly in broad daylight to still blush under the weight of her suggestive stare, but Gendry somehow manages to turn scarlet at her words. 

He recovers quickly, leaning over and kissing her deeply, tracing the seam of her mouth with that dangerous tongue of his. 

“I think I can manage some time for you.” He teases, before kissing her once more. Tasting herself only amplifies her arousal and Arya wastes no time in pulling away from him.

“Then take me to bed, will you? I don’t think I can blow you properly while on my knees, not with this ankle, anyway.” 

She says it so nonchalantly that if Gendry wasn’t so used to her, he would probably be taken aback. But since he has known her pretty much his entire life, he gets to his feet so quickly, it’s nearly comical.

Arya would laugh as he hastily scoops her up if the look in his eye also didn’t make her stomach clench in the most thrilling way possible. 

Thoughts of her family, overly persistent suitors, and secret relationships dissipate completely as Gendry carries her through the hallway to her bedroom.

She has more important matters to attend to at the moment.

xxx


	2. ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I post this, I feel like Jack Berger in Sex in the City when he breaks up with Carrie on a post-it that simply reads: I'm sorry. Don't hate me. 
> 
> In my defense, this chapter practically wrote itself, and I did want to make their relationship as realistic as possible. This means there are fights, but that also means there are reconciliations. So, if any of you feel like Carrie at the end of this chapter, just remember there's one more to come ;) I don't own the characters. Enjoy!

xxx

At first, he doesn’t even hear the knocking. 

In his defense, Arya is gloriously naked and pinned half underneath him. Her right leg is tucked under his shoulder, and the angle makes her so deliciously tight, every thrust makes him see fucking stars. 

It’s never been like this with anyone else. 

No one has ever managed to unravel him the way Arya does. They fit perfectly together. Her breasts are soft against his hard chest, ass shapely and full in his large palm as she ruts against him.

He meets her every push with his own pull, dragging his cock in and out of her at a pace that has her moaning into his neck and digging her nails into his shoulders. 

Gendry has no idea how long they’ve been at it. He lost track sometime after they’d turned off their phones and before he’d taken her from behind, nearly splintering her headboard. 

And he wouldn’t care at all, except for the goddamn knocking that has only gotten louder. 

Arya tears her mouth away from where she’d been sucking a hickey into his throat and looks up at him with wild, unfocused eyes.

“What the hell…”

“I thought you said Gilly was at Sam’s?” 

He only manages to slow down – his body not yet caught up with his mind. Arya bucks against him just then, and he feels such an intense jolt of pleasure, he nearly comes right then and there. 

“She is,” Arya pants against him, clearly having trouble as well. It’s the struggle on her flushed face that finally gives Gendry the push to separate from her. 

_“Arya, are you in there? C’mon I need to talk…”_

Arya practically falls off the bed as they both recognize the voice. Gendry would probably laugh, were he not also absolutely terrified.

“Robb?! What the hell is he doing here –“ he looks at the clock opposite her bed, “after midnight.” 

“I have no idea,” Arya sounds much calmer now, focused on finding something to wear, “but he sounds plastered.” 

For several long moments, all Gendry can do is watch as she rummages through a pile of clothes. His cock involuntarily twitches at the expanse of smooth, pale, bare skin on display.

It’s only momentary though, because once she’s draped a well-worn cotton robe around herself, reality sets in. He scrambles to find his own boxers, now hyperaware that his oldest friend in the world, who also happens to be Arya’s big brother, seems ready to break in her front door. 

“Alright, I’m going to go out there and tell him I have a guy here. Then I’ll come back in and sneak you out. Okay?” 

Arya has always thought much faster on her feet than anyone Gendry knows, but even he is impressed by how quickly she puts together a game plan. Something like admiration blooms in his chest, and he can do nothing but nod mutely in agreement. 

Arya smiles weakly at him before opening the door and disappearing behind it. 

A foolish smile tugs on his lips as he thinks about how lucky he is that she didn’t break his nose when he drunkenly confessed his feelings at that frat party months ago. 

Indistinct voices pull him from his thoughts, but since he can’t really make out what the Stark siblings are discussing, he turns his phone on instead. 

When he sees the 6 missed calls from Robb and nearly a dozen text messages ranging from **Gendryyyyy, where are you** to **I think I just fucked up my relationship** , Gendry decides he should probably get dressed. 

He’s just pulled his t-shirt over his head when Arya slinks back into the room, leaning on the door and exhaling. He takes the moment to drink her in, because how could he not when the robe barely skims her upper thighs, and he can just barely make out the shape of her nipples through the thin fabric. 

That all ceases to matter, however, when he spots the worry on her face. 

“Everything okay?” 

He crowds her immediately, dropping his hands loosely to her hips as he peers down at her.

“No,” Arya exhales in frustration and rests her forehead on his shoulder. 

Gendry tries really hard not to get distracted by the way her breath catches on his throat or the way her hair smells like peaches, but he’s merely human and he’s just spent several glorious hours in bed with her. He doesn’t hesitate bringing her into the fold of his arms, stifling a groan as her soft breasts press against his ribs. 

“The idiot is pretty incoherent right now. From what I gathered though, he and Tali got into a massive fight earlier, and he thought it would be smart to get a beer to decompress and well…you can see how that worked out.” 

“Yeah.” Gendry chuckles softly, “he called and texted me a bunch of times.” 

Arya looks up at him then, stormy gray eyes still concerned, but now also amused. 

“What?” 

“He said and I quote, ‘And of course, in my time of need, Gen finally decides to plow one of those co-eds that’s been trying to seduce him all semester.’”

Gendry feels his face grow hot but Arya only grins wider, and he can’t resist dropping a kiss on her forehead. 

“Well he’s not wrong about the plowing, but I’d never touch one of those co-eds.” 

Arya apparently finds the situation hysterical, because she starts to visibly shake with laugher, reminding Gendry that she’s separated from him by one thin layer of clothing. 

He reaches up to loosen the tie around her waist, yearning to trace the naked curve of her hip or maybe slide his fingers up and tease her nipples the way he knows she likes, when a crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a muffled _‘sorry’_.

Arya lets out something between a whine and growl, and Gendry decides it’s probably for the best that they give up trying to do anything else. 

He reluctantly steps back and runs a hand through his hair. 

His eyes fall on Arya and he immediately notices that she’s still favoring her left leg. His heart clenches as he thinks about her taking care of her drunken brother while she’s not fully recovered. 

“How about I come back here in a few and take him back to mine? We can tell him you finally got a hold of me. Drunk Robb isn’t exactly known for his mental acuity.” 

Arya lets out a very unladylike snort at that, melting his heart instantly. 

Gendry tries very much to ignore it. Except now she’s looking at him with a mixture of adoration and awe, and that warmth – that has absolutely nothing to do with his waning arousal – only grows. 

They stare at each other for a several long, drawn out moments, both full of emotion they can’t quite articulate. Arya eventually clears her throat and breaks the silence.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. This situation definitely calls for a bro talk.” 

Gendry nods, but he doesn’t want to leave her yet. He steps closer and captures her lips in a kiss that reveals just how annoyed he is that her brother interrupted a near perfect evening. 

Arya reciprocates eagerly, pulling his bottom lip between hers and succeeding in making him hard again. Before they can get carried away, he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers and trying to catch his breath. 

“Your brother doesn’t even know how much he owes me.” 

“Yeah. It’s too bad, I’ll have to finish what you started on my own.” 

Arya’s words go straight to his cock. He audibly groans as he pulls away to see the smirk she’s sporting. 

It only reinforces the image of her splayed naked on the bed, one hand playing with her breasts, while the other glides between her legs, pushing her towards orgasm… 

Yup. Robb owes him big. 

xxx

He promised himself he wouldn’t do this again. 

He hasn’t been that boy in a long time, not since he met his birth father at the age of 13 and realized there was nothing special about Robert Baratheon. 

When he realized that nothing could ever replace the home he and his mom had built in that rundown neighborhood of Fleabottom. 

Still, Robert wasn’t all bad. 

After all, without him taking Gendry to Winterfell for the summers, he never would have met the Starks. He never would have met _Arya_ , which is an unfathomable thought.

Without Robert taking him in after his mother died, Gendry never would have discovered his love of architecture while tagging along on business trips. 

Without Robert succumbing prematurely to a lifetime of bad habits the day before his college graduation, Gendry never would have learned first hand that money can never replace a parent. 

Years later, Gendry still can’t touch his inheritance. He doesn’t want it. It feels tainted somehow and actually, too good to be true. 

And he has learned the hard way many times over that when something seems too good to be true, then it likely won’t last.

Or worse, it isn’t even real. 

This thing with Arya, though, is real. He knows in his bones that it’s as real as it gets. 

And it’s _so_ easy: waking up next to her, walking her to class, kissing her whenever he wants, _making love_ to her. All of it is so seamless, he sometimes forgets that they haven’t been doing this all along. 

And it scares the shit out of him. 

Because if it’s so easy, so right, then it can’t possibly last. 

How could it?

Inheritance or not, he’s still a goddamn bastard, and Arya, well, she’s royalty.

He can practically see her scowl if he ever says this to her, so he keeps his fears to himself. The conversation he had with Robb plays on an endless loop in his head though, not letting him rest. 

Logically, he knows Robb never intended for his words to be interpreted this way. How could he, when he doesn’t know about their relationship, but that’s the crux of it really. 

Despite everything, Gendry and Arya still come from two very different worlds. It simply wouldn’t occur to Robb – a decently perceptive person when he’s not three sheets to the wind – that they could be more than friends. 

_“So who was the lucky lady? Was it that busty blonde who kept slipping her phone number into your pocket when you took me to that horrific college pub back in February?”_

_“No.”_

_“Ooh wait. Is it that fashion student who wears really short skirts to your classes and sits in the front row?”_

_“No, eat your eggs, Robb.”_

_“Is it the one who brings you coffee when she sees you at the student union?”_

_“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not saying who it is?”_

_“Ugh, you’re just as secretive as Arya. No fun.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yeah, she also had someone over last night. She made me hide in the kitchen while she walked him out. Must’ve been like ten minutes before you showed up.”_

At that point, Gendry had been certain Robb would figure it out; had mentally rehearsed what he was going to say to avoid getting punched in the face.

_“Do you know who it is?”_

_“Uh, no.”_

_“C’mon, you spend loads of time together. You’d be the first to know if my sister was involved with someone. You’d probably threaten to break the lad’s fingers.”_

_“Unfortunately, I don’t. Plus, I’m pretty sure that if someone hurt her, Arya would break more than just his fingers on her own.”_

_“Hah, Yeah. True.”_

_“You know what, I bet it’s that fencing chap, the Dayne kid, who follows her around. He probably wore her down and she’s too embarrassed to admit it.”_

Okay, so maybe Robb isn’t the most observant person. 

In all his years of knowing her, Gendry can’t recall a time he’s ever seen Arya embarrassed by anything; and he knows she doesn’t fancy Ned fucking Dayne. 

The seed is planted though, because like it or not, the last name Dayne carries a certain amount of weight. Just like Baratheon.

But Gendry isn’t a Baratheon, not really. 

And the last name Waters means fuck all. 

Especially next to a Stark. 

xxx

“I think we should go to Robb and Tali’s wedding together.” 

They’re studying on his bed. Well, at least Arya has been studying. For the last half hour, she’s been lounging at the foot of the bed, scribbling furiously in the margins of the reader splayed out in front of her. 

He, on the other hand, has been on the same page of his lecture notes for the last fifteen minutes. His mind is elsewhere and has been since his conversation with Robb, which is likely why he doesn’t even register what Arya says to him. 

“Huh?”

“Robb and Talisa’s wedding,” Arya says much slower, an amused smile playing on her lips, “you and me, going together, as a couple. Seems like an easy way to tell everyone we care about, right?” 

“Oh.” 

Gendry knows Arya deserves more than his silence, but he’s genuinely at a loss for words. He’s spent the last week and a half struggling with a fear that only one person can alleviate and he can’t confide in her, because it would hurt her in the process. 

He opens his mouth to speak but his brain must have trouble connecting with his tongue, because he’s got nothing and Arya seems to have had it. She shuts her reader and sits up cross legged to face him.

“Okay, what’s going on with you, Gendry.” 

“Nothing,” he stutters out. 

The oversized shirt she’s wearing slips off one side, revealing the bare skin of her shoulder, but Gendry doesn’t even notice, too busy trying to make sense of everything in his head. 

“Right,” Arya raises an eyebrow at him. He knows she’s a second away from crossing her arms and looking at him like his mom used to when he snuck cookies before dinner. 

“You’ve been like this all week. First, I thought it was the prelim for your dissertation but that went well, so what gives?” 

The concern on her face, paired with the way she reaches forward to settle a comforting hand on his knee, is almost worse than disappointment. It makes him feel like a fraud, because he knows he should talk to her, should just be honest with his feelings, regardless of where it might take them, but he also knows he can’t. 

There’s nothing she can do to change where he comes from and he knows that down the line, it will become a factor. If not for him or for her, then certainly for her parents, for her entire family probably, because Starks don’t fornicate with bastards, even bastards with inheritances. 

The surge of panic at what this means for the two of them is what ultimately has him putting his lecture notes aside and getting up. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

The way his entire body tenses as he finds some distance between them belies his words. Arya is too smart to buy his bullshit deflections anyway, so he tries again. 

“Doesn’t the wedding seem like too much to announce that sorta thing? Stealing thunder and all?” 

Arya rolls her eyes, lips curving into a smirk at his lame reasoning. She slides off the bed and comes to stand in front him, reaching up to rest her hands on his shoulders. 

He wishes she wouldn’t – being this close to her has always messed with him. The smell of her perfume, the smattering of freckles across her bare shoulder, the curve of her mouth when she smiles at him. 

And it hurts like hell, because he knows this isn’t his. It could never be his, at least not in the way he wants it to be. 

“So two weeks ago, you were planning to make t-shirts, and now the idea of going together to my brother’s wedding is suddenly overwhelming? Seriously, Gendry, what’s going on with you?”

Despite the lightness of her tone, Gendry knows she’s serious, can tell from the way her laser focused gray eyes are trained on him, waiting to spot deceit. 

“It’s different,” he says almost imperceptibly, looking down to avoid her gaze. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s your family.” 

Arya stills before him, hands sliding down from his shoulders to fall at her sides.

He isn’t fooled by the silence though, knows from personal experience that a calm Arya is almost worse than an Arya filled with rage. 

“And that’s a problem because?” Her even tone chills him to the bone, or maybe it’s the incredulity of this entire situation. 

He’s sure of one thing though, and that’s the voice in his head reminding him that no matter how they spin it, she’s from one of the most powerful families in Westeros, and he’s a bastard from Fleabottom. No amount of money is ever going to change that. 

Still, before all of this started, they were friends, best friends even, and so he owes her a bit of honesty. It’s the least he can do if he’s about to shatter both their hearts.

“Because it’s your family. It’s different, okay?” 

“No, it’s not okay,” Arya snaps back, arms now folded over her chest as she appraises him coolly, “what is it? Am I good enough to fuck in secret but not good enough to date publicly?”

He looks up at her sharply then, eyes narrowing as he encounters the hurt buried deep in her expression. She covers it with layers and layers of anger and defiance, but he sees it there and it cracks him in half. 

“No, Arya, you know it’s not like that.” 

Gendry reaches for her but she steps back, “no, I really don’t know anything apparently.” 

He expects more anger, maybe even a punch to the face, but the defeat both in her voice and in her posture is unexpected. It makes him sick to his stomach. 

“I know you could have your pick of any woman you want but I thought this was-“

“Arya, this isn’t about any other woman. You know how I feel about you; you know that I-..” 

He stops himself, knowing that if he tells her he loves her, tells her he’s been in love with her probably long before he even noticed other girls, Gendry knows there will be no turning back. 

Fuck her status.

Fuck society.

Fuck everything. 

If he tells her, it’ll be cemented. It’ll be real for them both and well…what insurance does he have that it won’t fall apart? 

Look how spectacularly he’s already fucking it up.

“You what?” 

“Nothing.” He says and it feels like he’s thrown down the gauntlet, pushed her a little too far for her to push back again. 

Arya takes a few steps back, and the distance feels like miles between them.

Gendry does nothing to bridge it, knows he’s earned every bit of pain and misery that awaits him as she gets farther and farther away from him.

Arya Stark deserves someone brave, someone who will move mountains for her, someone who can get past his daddy issues and hold on to a good thing when he sees it. 

Gendry thought he was that man, but he isn’t, and he shouldn’t take her down with him. 

That’s why he doesn’t stop her when she gathers her books and stuffs them into her backpack.

She doesn’t say anything until she’s already by the front door. He’s been purposefully avoiding her as she packed up but when he feels her eyes on him, Gendry forces himself to meet her gaze. 

Her pain is no longer hidden. She’s letting him see exactly how badly he’s fucked up, not through rage or anger, but heartache…heartache that _he_ caused.

“I’m going to go. Call me when you get over whatever is fucking with your head.” 

She gives him one more chance to fix this, even just to apologize, but he’s already passed that. 

His walls are up and there’s nothing either of them can do now. 

“Or don’t,” she exhales a moment later, somehow sounding both annoyed and resigned. 

Then she pulls open the door and slips past it like a ghost, like she was never really there at all. 

Gendry thinks it’s quite poetic that Arya Stark, a force to be reckoned with, leaves him with nothing more than a gentle shut of the door and a sigh. 

And then he’s alone. 

xxx


	3. compression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I'll be adding another one very soon, because I can't help myself. I do hope you all enjoy this one though; it's definitely earned the Explicit rating ;) As always, I own nothing.

xxx 

He barely lasts a week before he's pulling up Arya’s contact info on his phone. He wants to blame it on the wedding invitation he’d gotten in the mail that morning, but Gendry knows it’s more than that. 

Invitation or not, he’s missed her, and seeing her contact photo peer at him as his thumb hovers over the call button plunges a knife of guilt through his insides. 

There’s no way a casual phone call will fix this, but he’s not entirely sure what will. 

He knows how much Arya values honesty and trust, how much she trusts him specifically; he’d gone and violated that by keeping his mouth shut and shielding his demons away from her. 

Despite it being a coping mechanism, it’s still wrong. He knew it the second she walked out of his apartment. 

Even while it was happening, he knew it was a bad idea but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities paralyzed him. 

They still plague him, and where he’d usually seek distraction, this is something he has to face head on. 

He has to prove to himself as much as to Arya that he won’t be held back by his childhood, haunted by the memory of a dead man, and the legacy of a name that was never really his. 

The Starks had been different from his father’s family. They welcomed him with open arms, never once making him feel unwanted. Even Catelyn Stark with her cool demeanor and appraising eyes had taken a liking to him. Perhaps that had been Robert’s intention all along.

Maybe he had known that where he lacked, the boisterous Stark clan would more than fill the gaps. The thought is an odd one, considering his complicated feelings towards his father, but Gendry doesn’t shove it away, doesn’t shelve it like he normally would.

Avoidance is what got him into this mess, and it’s high time, he stop being such a coward. 

As if on cue, he gets a text notification from Jon. His old roommate has texted him a bunch but Gendry has been unresponsive, using finals as an excuse not to talk to his friend. He’s also fielded a dozen calls from Robb. 

With the wedding just two months away, he knows that his best friend needs him, but it doesn’t feel right to carry on as usual when things are so tense between him and Arya. 

He still needs to talk to someone though; someone who will understand and won’t judge. 

There’s no hesitation as Gendry quickly scrolls down to his fourth most frequently dialed number and hits the call button. 

The phone rings twice before the line connects.

“Hello lad. Long time, no talk.” 

He’s not sure what it is about his father’s former employee, but Davos Seaworth has always managed to put Gendry at ease. 

Back when Robert was alive, Davos has been the head of manufacturing at Baratheon Industries, and often joined them on business trips, in turn spending a lot of time with Gendry.

The former Naval officer had lost a son just a year prior to Gendry losing his mother, and it seemed like the universe had brought them together on purpose, to help each other grieve and move on. 

When Robert died, his wife Cersei had tried to contest Gendry’s inclusion in the will, but somehow Davos managed to convince her otherwise. 

Despite not wanting the money, having Davos in his corner gave Gendry the drive he needed to deal with his father’s death, and to make the most of the opportunities given to him. 

So, yeah, the older man was absolutely the right person to call, even if Gendry doesn’t have a clue what to say. 

“Hi Davos, how are things?” 

“All is well here, good to hear from you though. How are you, son?” 

“I’m-…”

Gendry has never been good at small talk, especially not in moments of distress or uncertainty, so he decides to bite the bullet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“How did you…umm, well, how did you know Marya was the one?” 

He sounds so awkward, so unlike himself, that he nearly lets out a growl of frustration, running his hand through his cropped hair.

When did he become such a blithering mess? 

Davos’ soft chuckle sounds clear as day in Gendry’s ear, replacing his self-effacing thoughts. 

“So, you finally decided to tell Arya how you feel, huh?” 

It shouldn’t surprise Gendry that Davos cuts right to the chase, but it does. It suddenly makes him wonder just how transparent he’s been with his feelings for Arya. 

How many people – her parents included – probably already suspect that they’re more than friends.

And if they know and haven’t objected… 

It’s the first time in days that Gendry feels even a smidgen of hope. 

From there, the words tumble out without much effort. 

“Well, it’s actually a funny story…” 

xxx 

He finds himself in front of Arya’s apartment later that evening. He’s about to knock when he hears movement on the other side of the door, which gives him major pause. 

It’s stupid to be nervous, but his mind has different ideas. His palms start to sweat as he clenches and unclenches them at his side. 

Davos wasn’t as generous with his wisdom as he was with his time, listening to everything Gendry had to say patiently, only interjecting when it was necessary. 

It felt good, great even, to share his fears with someone who knows him, who understands his perspective. 

It warmed his heart the way Davos had so eagerly approved of his relationship with Arya, laughing as Gendry recalled the story of how he finally confessed his feelings. 

_“Took you long enough,”_ she had said before pulling him into a kiss. 

Gendry skipped over the part where that kissing had led to them being holed up in his apartment the entire weekend, leaving his bed only for food and bathroom breaks. 

Remembering those glorious few days had given Gendry the courage to seek Arya out as soon as possible. 

Now that he is here, he has to work extra hard to temper down his nerves. He’s just about to knock for real, when the door flies open, damn near giving him a heart attack. 

“Gendry?” 

The knot of fear loosens upon seeing Arya’s roommate, Gilly, looking a little harried and a lot relieved. 

“Hi Gilly.” 

“Thank god, you’re here. Arya’s been in a bit of a mood these past few days.” 

Gendry hopes the heat he feels rising on his face isn’t as transparent as his chastened expression. 

“I’m afraid that might be my fault. Is she home?” 

“No,” Gilly smiles softly as disappointment washes over him. 

In all fairness, he hadn’t even thought about her not being home – impulsivity is definitely not his strong suit. He’s mentally kicking himself when Gilly addresses him again. 

“I need to head out but you’re welcome to wait. I think she said she’d be home around 7.” 

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thank you.” 

Gilly steps aside to let him in. 

“There’s beer in the fridge, or whiskey in the cupboard if you’re in need of something stronger.”

She winks at him knowingly, and then she’s gone; and he’s left alone in Arya’s apartment, wondering just how much her roommate knows about their relationship. 

He looks around the room, not exactly sure what to do with himself while he waits. 

Entering Arya’s bedroom seems like a violation of privacy under the circumstances, but one glance at the couch and he knows he can’t sit there either. 

At least not without thinking about how the last time he was there, he had his tongue buried between Arya’s thighs while she was begging him to let her come. 

His dick twitches involuntarily at the memory, and if possible, he hates himself just a little more for it. 

The armchair Gilly usually occupies when they have movie nights seems like the safest option, so he sits down there. Since he didn’t bring anything to occupy himself, not even his books, he falls asleep – several nights of restless sleep finally catching up to him. 

Gendry wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later to the sound of a key scraping against a lock. 

Before he can shake the sleep from his body, Arya enters the apartment, spotting him immediately and as such, slamming the door with unnecessary force. 

“Who let you in?” She asks, and he can’t begrudge her the coolness of her tone. 

He catches her eyes anyway and gives her a rueful smile. 

“Gilly. She said I could wait for you. I hope that’s okay.” 

If he expected that to thaw her iciness, he is wrong. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Arya says dismissively and toes off her shoes. Then she makes her way to the kitchen and pulls a beer from the fridge. 

He watches as she twists off the top and takes a healthy pull from the bottle. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that she doesn’t offer him one, but that thought disappears as soon as she turns to him again.

Her steely gray gaze reveals no hurt. 

She’s had enough time to put her armor on, to retreat into herself and solidify the walls she erected around herself as soon as he hurt her. 

An eye for an eye, he supposes, and while it intimidates the hell out of him, Gendry also knows if there’s anyone who can get through to her, it’s him. 

“I came here to talk to you.”

“Okay, so talk.” 

She doesn’t give him any leeway and he doesn’t expect her to. 

She wouldn’t be Arya if she did. 

The observation sends a thrill through him, almost prompting him to do something stupid like blurt out that he loves her, but Arya deserves more than that. 

She deserves an explanation, and an apology. 

He decides to start there. 

“I’m sorry for shutting down on you like that.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugs, taking another sip, “you did what you had to do.” 

“It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that to you, and I am sorry.” 

“Alright, apology accepted. Was there anything else?” 

If his M.O. is shutting down, then Arya’s is pushing people away. He’s determined not to let that happen. 

“Arya.” 

It’s a warning, and defiance flares behind her gaze as she sets the beer on the counter and crosses her arms. 

“What? What do you want, Gendry? Clearly, you don’t want to date me, despite having zero qualms about fucking me every chance you get. So maybe it’s for the best that you came out with it now rather than later. Saves us both some discomfort down the line.” 

Gendry suppresses the frustration that bubbles up at her words. It absolutely kills him that she thinks he’s ashamed of her. It could not be further from the truth.

“If I didn’t want to date you, I never would have told you how I felt. Regardless of how drunk I was, I respect you too much to have ever crossed that boundary for no reason.” 

She softens a little bit at that, but her guard is still very much up. 

Arya Stark is not someone who can be wooed or swayed by a few well-chosen words. 

“Okay then what, Gendry? What could have possibly driven you to…do what you did.“ 

She slumps against the counter then and stares at the floor. 

It’s the first time Gendry realizes just how worn out she looks. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin is too pale for the heatwave they’re having. 

He can blame it on exams, but he knows he’s at least partially responsible. He wants to reach out and pull her into his arms, but that’s not what she needs from him right now. 

“For a really long time, the idea of you and me seemed impossible. You were this force, this ball of energy and enthusiasm that could make everything bad disappear. I looked forward to every summer and every holiday I spent with you and your family. Then, you were there for me when Robert died and I couldn’t believe my luck that you even gave a shit-“

Arya opens her mouth to protest, but whatever is written on his face stops her. 

“And then you came to King’s Landing, and much to Robb’s displeasure, you somehow became the most important person in my life.” 

They share an amused smile at that – recalling how absolutely jealous Robb got that first semester when Arya and Gendry became thick as thieves, inevitably leaving him out. 

“And I knew it was only a matter of time before I told you how I felt. I would have done it sooner but-“

He doesn’t want to bring up painful memories of everything the Stark family has had to deal with in the last three years – from Bran’s accident, to Sansa’s restraining orders against not one but two boyfriends, to Ned Stark barely surviving an assassination attempt. 

There had never been the right time to tell Arya how he felt about her. 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say here, is that I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I was a scrawny teenager who didn’t even understand what love was. You can’t possibly think that the reason why I’ve been acting so dumb is because I’m in any way ashamed of you, or want anyone else, because there _is_ no one else for me, Arya. There hasn’t been for a long time.” 

This is the moment that could make or break them, Gendry knows that much. It’s why his heart is lodged in his throat, which feels as dry as sandpaper now. 

He doesn’t dare look away from Arya though. Enough time passes, however, that he begins to doubt himself, when - 

“You were never ever scrawny.” 

It’s not the response he’s expecting but he’s relieved immediately, which must show on his face, because Arya openly smirks at him. Then, she casually makes her way over to the couch, sitting close enough that their knees nearly bump into one another’s. 

“I still need to know why you were acting so stupid.” 

It’s so like her to get straight to the point, not getting caught up whatsoever by his proclamation of love. 

That alone makes it so much less terrifying to tell her why he’s been so distant. 

“The morning after Robb showed up at your apartment, he was interrogating me about your mystery man, and even though I had told him I’d also been with someone too, he didn’t make the connection. I know it shouldn’t have mattered, but then I started thinking about how if Robb couldn’t connect the dots, what would the rest of your family think when they found out?” 

He expects Arya to roll her eyes and call both him and Robb idiots, but she does neither. 

Instead, she scoots to the edge of the couch and grasps his hand in reassurance. 

“I know it was stupid, but I don’t think I ever truly believed Robert might actually want me. At least I never felt as at home with him and Cersei as I did with your family. Somewhere along the way, all of you Starks became the people I was most afraid of disappointing.”

Arya visibly stiffens at the mention of his father’s widow, but says nothing still, and Gendry keeps going. 

“Your mom and dad showed me what a real home looked like. They accepted me even when I was a surly grieving teenager who was impossible to be around. Especially when Robert died, I realized just how lucky I was to have you all. I know I am not the same kid anymore, but there are still days where I feel like an unwanted bastard.”

Gendry can see how much his words displease Arya but she restrains herself, no doubt for his sake. He squeezes her hand in gratitude. 

“When Robb had been so oblivious, it made me question how your family would react, what your parents would think of their daughter dating someone with my background. Despite their kindness towards me, for a second there, I questioned whether they would approve, or want that future for you.” 

He takes a much-needed breath then, feeling even more unburdened than when he confided in Davos. 

Arya looks at him like she’s mulling over what he said very carefully, but it doesn’t make Gendry uncomfortable. Instead, it reminds him how much he’s missed her.

Her intensity, her composure, her intelligence. All of it. 

“After everything that’s happened, I’m pretty sure all my parents really want for me is to be happy, and the last few days notwithstanding, you make me very happy.” 

He learns forward on instinct, until his jeans brush up against her bare knees. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Arya nods without hesitation and this time, Gendry doesn’t fight the urge to touch her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

He decides right then and there that he’s done being stupid; insecurities be damned. Nothing is going to keep him away from her. 

If her family disapproves, he’ll just work extra hard to show them that no one else will ever love Arya the way he does, the way she deserves to be loved. 

“I really am sorry. There are still things I need to deal with, but I promise not to let them come between us. I won’t keep you in the dark.” 

“Apology accepted….again, and I’m sorry too.” 

“For what?”

“It was my idea to keep this between us and I think that overcomplicated things. We never talked about where we stood with each other and I thought that if down the line, we didn’t work out, it would be easier if my family didn’t know.”

It made sense, for all that Gendry is displeased by it, her reasoning makes sense. 

After everything she’s been through, he can’t blame her for putting guardrails around her heart. It just pains him that instead of probing, he believed her when she said it might be nice to have something that’s only theirs for a bit. 

They really are a pair, the two of them, but he also knows of no two people better suited to help each other. 

It’s effortless the way Arya has always encouraged him and supported him, while he in turn has been the stable force in her life in moments of need. 

They were never just friends, they were always partners, and they’ve just proven how true that is by resolving their first fight as a couple with honesty and communication.

It might have taken him a while to get there, but he’s learned from it, and he has no intention of making the same mistake again. 

With that thought, whatever restraint he still has, completely shatters. 

“C’mere.” 

Gendry urges her forward but he doesn’t have to, because Arya is already crawling into his arms, straddling his lap and then squeezing all the air out of his lungs with a full body hug. 

All the anxiety and doubt start to ebb away as he holds her close and inhales her scent.

That’s what Arya does to him. She settles him like the final puzzle piece sliding into place.

Not for the first time Gendry thinks about how much of a fool he was for almost depriving them of the joy of being together. 

Most people live their entire lives without ever having the privilege of loving someone who loves them back and he was willing to throw it all away over something as inconsequential as a name. 

Arya leans back to appraise him keenly. 

“My family loves you, you know.” She says with a weight he wasn’t expecting, and then her face dissolves into a smile as she bends forward again, “probably not in the same way that _I_ love you, but sometimes, I think they’d prefer you to me, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Her reassurance would definitely be a comfort if Gendry had heard anything beyond “I love you.” 

Arya Stark loves him.

Arya Stark loves him and she’s warm and solid in his lap, waiting somewhat impatiently for him to make a move. 

So he does. 

He pulls her down by the back of her neck until he can kiss her soundly on the mouth, giving in to the yearning he’s had from the moment he saw her tonight.

Her palms press into his shoulders as his tongue slips into her mouth. His fingers find the familiar path up her spine, dipping below the hem of her dress to feel her skin. 

They kiss until oxygen becomes a problem, but Gendry doesn’t stop touching her even when they come up for air. Arya is breathless and her pupils are blown wide, and he can’t resist putting his mouth back on her skin, trailing hot, dry kisses along her collarbone. 

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers against his temple, and Gendry pulls back so he can look her in the eye. 

“You love me.” He says, almost as if in wonder, and Arya runs her thumb along his jaw, before pressing a kiss there. 

“I do, I love you.” 

Gendry doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that. 

“I love you too.” 

He watches as his words leave a faint blush on her cheeks, emphasizing just how pink and swollen her lips are, how darkened her eyes are with desire. 

His hand dips below her dress again, and all his blood drains south when he finally registers exactly what she’s wearing and what she’s not. 

“Do you have an aversion to bras?” 

Now that he’s paying attention, it’s also hard to miss the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. 

“Maybe,” she shrugs, causing one thin strap to slide off her shoulder. Her hands get dangerously close to his belt, before slipping underneath his shirt. His cock spasms at the feel of her cool, nimble fingers dancing across his lower abs. 

“Does it bother you?” She asks innocently while switching direction and beginning to stroke him through his jeans. 

“Not at all,” he nearly growls before reaching up and tugging both straps down her arms until the fabric falls to her waist. 

The way Arya looks at him without a lick of shame, while her breasts are just a hairsbreadth away from his lips, leaves Gendry nearly lightheaded with arousal. He wastes no time leaning forward and pulling one of her pink nipples into his mouth. 

Arya arches against him as he swipes his tongue across the hardened flesh, and he bands his arm around her naked waist to keep her steady. 

For long torturous moments, he alternates between licking and sucking, losing himself in the softness of her skin, the heat radiating off of her, the sounds she makes as she holds his head flush against her. 

Gendry wants to take it slow. He really does but the emotional toll of their fight and the subsequent reconciliation have made him frenzy with need. It’s been too long without her and he just really wants to see her cum, wants to see her let go and know that he made it happen.

His fingers replace his tongue as he starts to suck hickies into the undersides of her breasts, something he recently discovered drives Arya absolutely crazy. Sure enough, her moans start to become incoherent, as she grinds harder into his lap, chasing a release that seems so out of reach. 

His name spills breathlessly from her lips, causing him to look up into her half-lidden eyes. 

“What do you want?” he asks, still toying with her breasts. He circles her nipples with his thumbs then rolls them between his fingers, watching as she sucks in bits of air at every motion he makes. 

“Make me come,” she pleads, and his mouth goes slack at the image of Arya naked and flushed, begging him to make her feel good. 

Gendry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more breathtaking. 

He slips his hand under her dress and into her underwear without much preamble. 

She’s already wet but he wants her wetter, wants her dripping into his hand as he fucks her with his fingers. 

“Fuck,” she hisses out as he makes contact with her clit, spreading some of her moisture over the sensitive flesh and starting to stroke. 

He’s not really gentle, doesn’t need to be when she’s this slick with want, and she relishes in it, moving her hips to match the rhythm of the unremitting circles he draws into her clit.

It’s still not enough though, and he can feel her frustration build as she digs her nails into his biceps. 

She doesn’t have to ask this time.

He tilts her head to capture her lips at the same time as he buries three fingers inside her, causing Arya to cry out and bear down on his hand. 

Gendry doesn’t give her a moment to adjust as he starts to curl and twist his fingers. His cock grows painfully hard as he watches her ride his hand without restraint, hands clawing at him as she tries to guide his fingers to that one spot that’ll make her thighs shake. 

He finds it just as Arya arches forward again, her clit bumping against the heel of his palm. She tenses ever so slightly atop him and then does it again, and again, until her entire body, not just her legs, starts to tremble. 

Gendry presses his hand against the small of her back, providing her the leverage she needs to properly rut against him. From there, all it takes is just a few careful strokes and a kiss to each of her nipples before Arya completely falls apart. 

He holds her through it, keeping his hands exactly where they are while chasing a bead of sweat down her sternum with his tongue.

She slumps against him eventually, breathing hard while resting her forehead on his shoulder. 

He trails a soothing path up and down her spine, reveling in the heat and smoothness of her skin, marveling at how alive she feels in his arms. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

Arya snorts right into his neck, but when she sits back to look at him, Gendry can see how much the words mean to her. 

“You’re just obligated to say that because you’re my boyfriend.” 

The stupid grin that falls on his lips is contagious as Arya smiles back at him, the flush of her orgasm dissipating as she settles in his lap again. 

“I love when you call me that.” 

He doesn’t mean to get sappy but his hand finds her cheek anyway and he swears his heart skips a beat when she nuzzles his palm. 

“Boyfriend,” she keeps smiling as she brushes her lips against his wrist. He guides her face towards him to kiss her again. 

He intends for it to be a chaste press of their lips but the second he feels her mouth on his, he’s reminded of his arousal.

When Arya pulls his bottom lip between hers and swipes her tongue across it, Gendry thinks he might just fuck her right here in this chair. 

But that would be horribly inappropriate, so before he can get carried away, Gendry hooks his arms under her thighs and stands up. 

“We probably shouldn’t…” he tries to his explain his sudden move by nodding towards the chair, but Arya seems to understand. 

“Yeah, Gilly has been accommodating enough.” 

Gendry intends to ask her what she means by that, but she leans forward then and starts kissing his neck, and Gendry can’t really formulate words after that. 

Instead, he kicks the door to her room open and deposits her onto the bed, before stripping off his clothes and shoes. 

Arya makes quick work of her dress, and by the time he shuts the door and returns to the foot of the bed, she’s lying naked with her legs spread open, looking him up and down with a predatory glint. 

“What?” he asks, lifting her leg up and pressing a kiss to her healed ankle. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

At first, he thinks she’s parroting his words back to him to tease, but there’s not a trace of mirth in her eyes. Instead, he encounters a familiar expression he now understands is love, love and a little bit of lust. 

He wastes no time in crawling onto the bed and hovering over her. He kisses her lips, her neck, licks a trail across her collarbone before finding her breasts again, wanting to hear her moan his name again as he sucks one nipple into his mouth, then the other. 

Not to be outdone, Arya reaches between them, and wraps her hand around his cock, stroking him lazily.

When she swipes her thumb across the tip, he tears his lips from her breast to breathe her name into the space between them. 

He’s glad the sun hasn’t set yet, because when their eyes lock, he feels the air knock out of his lungs. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Arya look at him this way before. Whatever walls she had up have completely dissolved, and she’s letting him see exactly how much he means to her, how deep her feelings for him really go. 

He knows this vulnerability is rare, that she’s never shown this side of herself to anyone before, and his heart constricts painfully, thinking about how he’d almost taken it for granted. It makes him want to be just as honest with her. 

“You make me happy too. So fucking happy.” 

He doesn’t tear his eyes away from hers as pulls her hand away and overhead, threading their fingers together. 

Arya’s reply is the tilt of her hips, and he takes the invitation to finally slide inside her until there’s not a semblance of space between them. 

There’s a moment then when they both lie perfectly still, drinking each other in. Gendry feels every inch of Arya against him, from her erratic heartbeat to the tremble of her thighs as she tries to adjust to him. 

He starts to moves slowly, unhurriedly, taking the time to trail his fingers along the slender curve of her waist, and down to her ass, palming the soft flesh as he guides his cock in and out of her. 

He doesn’t look away the entire time, tracing the shift of micro expressions on her face every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her. 

Arya doesn’t lie very still either, moving her hands in an erratic pattern from his shoulder blades to his ass and back again, pushing him further and further into the daze of pleasure. 

It feels different than any other time before, intense but slow in a way that sends wave after wave of heat to all his nerve endings. 

Arya’s eyes flutter shut despite her best efforts and Gendry leans forward to kiss each eyelid, his own movements starting to falter as the pressure in his spine starts to build. To speed things up, he grasps one of her legs and tucks it right underneath his shoulder. 

The shift causes Arya’s eyes to shoot open, searching for his in the dimness of her room. 

“You okay?” He asks, even though he knows she is. 

“More than,” she smiles back, locking her ankles around his waist and leaning up to kiss him. 

They don’t talk after that, letting the faster rhythm build until they’re both grasping for release. 

He’s to the point of aching inside her, but doesn’t want to come first, so he reaches behind him to unhook one of her ankles. 

Arya is almost ready to protest until he presses her leg down and out, his next thrust perfectly hitting her clit and causing her to clench so tightly around him, he thinks she’s already coming.

But she’s not, not just yet but he’s so close, he frantically reaches between them and starts to massage her breast, hoping it’s enough to get her there before him. 

Arya tenses at the sensation overload and breathes out his name in a strung-out plea that could not sound sweeter. It’s the last thing Gendry comprehends before his orgasm rips right through him, sending jolts of electricity all the way down to his toes and back up again as he empties inside her. 

Arya’s not too far behind him, and he’s so grateful he comes to quickly enough to watch her chase the remnants of her pleasure, straining to catch her breath as her blunt nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

She holds onto him so tightly, he’s scared he might crush her, but he doesn’t dare move, at least not while Arya continues to arch half-heartedly against him, still riding her high. 

He’s content to hold her through it, pressing kisses along her forehead and her cheeks as she revels in the aftershocks. 

Eventually, she loosens her hold on him, and he braces himself on his forearms to look at her properly. 

“That was…” 

But she can’t really find a way to describe it, and neither can he, if he’s honest. 

“Yeah…” he chuckles a bit breathlessly, and then rolls onto his side, taking Arya with him. 

“We’re so doing that again, very soon.” She looks over her shoulder at him, and Gendry kisses her cheek sweetly as he nods.

“Okay, but in a little bit. Remember, I’m an old man.” 

Arya turns in his arms then and lifts her leg over his waist, pulling him in until they’re pressed shoulder to hip again. 

“But you’re my old man, and I’ll do with you as I please,” she whispers against his lips before resting her head against his shoulder. 

Gendry can’t think of a single argument against that. 

xxx


	4. elevate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, bookmarked or commented on this story. I'm a sucker for positive reinforcement and you guys are the best at it! This story started with Arya's perspective and I thought it only fitting to end it with hers as well. I hope you enjoy this little epilogue as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, I own nothing.

xxx 

Arya wakes up to a sliver of moonlight falling across her face. She throws her arm over her eyes, not quite ready to contend with reality. 

A blush creeps up her neck as she catalogues the pleasant soreness originating from between her thighs and coiling loosely around all her muscles. 

Eventually, she chances a glance to her left. There’s a bit of space between them, but there’s really no mistaking the heat source currently slumbering on his back next to her, his face angled away. 

They didn’t close the blinds earlier, and Arya is grateful for it now. The light streaming through the window illuminates Gendry perfectly, and it’s quite the sight to behold. 

Her bedsheet is pushed halfway down his body, revealing the tanned, muscled expanse of his torso, which tapers off into a set of defined abs just lightly peppered with hair Arya knows to be soft. 

She suppresses the urge to reach out and follow the trail as it disappears beneath the sheet, not yet ready to wake him up. 

This week had been absolute hell. She had been angry both at Gendry and herself. Him for being a stubborn bull and hiding things that were so obviously eating away at him, and herself for doing exactly what she always said she wouldn’t – getting hung up over a _boy._

To be fair, this isn’t just any boy. 

It’s Gendry. 

Gendry, who used to patch up her skinned knees when she’d get a little too reckless on the playground.

Gendry, who broke her high school boyfriend’s nose when Arya discovered he’d been cheating on her.

Gendry, who drove seven hours from King’s Landing to sit with her in the hospital waiting room as doctors tried in vain to save Bran’s legs, and then just a few months later, when her father was fighting for his life. 

Gendry, who kept his feelings to himself out of respect for her… 

Her heart seizes at that new bit of information he’d revealed tonight. That, paired with his reasoning for shutting down on her, makes it so difficult to feel anything other than empathy and love for him. 

And Gods she really does love him, not just for how he is with her, but how he is with everyone around him. He’s a natural protector, not just with his physical strength but with the emotional support he has lent over the years to those closest to him. 

It’s why she feels a hollow pit in her stomach, thinking about how his insecurities had nearly isolated him, left him without a protector of his own. 

It startles her suddenly how much she craves to be that person for him; a sense of elation filling her as she thinks about how she can do that now. 

She wants to be the one who watches after him, to make sure that he never feels like an unwanted bastard ever again. This realization is new, something she’s never felt for anyone outside her family. 

But Gendry is family too, he always has been, and so it shouldn’t really surprise her how fiercely she wants to protect the boy – no, man – snoring lightly besides her.

The thought prompts Arya to reach out and trace the thick vein that runs along his bicep. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Gendry’s nose scrunches up at the touch. 

He doesn’t open his eyes, not yet but his hand does extend, presumably searching for her in his sleep. She doesn’t hesitate scooting closer and settling against his chest. 

Gendry stirs at that and his arm instinctively settles around her. The relaxed sigh he emits as he begins to wake up makes her smile and she presses her nose further into his chest, inhaling his scent and releasing her own appreciative exhale. 

“What time is it?” He whispers, fingers trailing along her shoulder. His voice is raspy from sleep and it sends a jolt of desire right through her. 

“Quarter past 12.” She replies without moving. 

His fingers find their way into her hair and untangle a few strands. 

“Gilly home?” 

At that, Arya does look up at him, “nope. She’s at Sam’s tonight.” 

Gendry gives her an adoring smile, face much more alert than she expected. She tries not to get lost in the blue depths of his eyes as he looks her over. 

“Hi,” he says as he gently massages her scalp, sending a pleasant shiver cascading down her spine. 

“Hey,” she whispers back before pressing a kiss to the skin under her chin.

It’s this quiet interplay between them that warms her the most. These peaceful moments when it’s just the two of them, entwined with each other; this is what makes all of it worth it. 

She moves up his torso – nipples tightening as they catch on his chest hair – as she seeks his mouth out. 

Their kiss is languid, soft, lips melding together with the practiced ease of long-term lovers. It makes Arya forget that there was a time when she didn’t have the freedom to kiss Gendry like this, to feel his warm, solid strength beneath her, to have the luxury of running her fingers through his hair and relishing the feel of his muscles. 

She has that opportunity now, and she doesn’t plan on squandering it away.

Before the kiss can go further though, Arya pulls back. Gendry’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes reveal his confusion at the interruption but he doesn’t make a move to embrace her again. 

“Can I just say one thing about your father, without you getting upset with me?” 

His whole face immediately softens, indicating that she has nothing to be worried about, but Arya feels the need to warn him anyway. If their talk tonight is any indication, Robert Baratheon’s presence still looms large.

“I want you to feel comfortable talking to me, so yes, of course.” He says lovingly as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“If you’re going to resent Robert, then you should resent him for all of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Arya has zero delusions about Gendry’s lack of denial. She of all people understands the impetus for holding a grudge, but his tone suggests genuine curiosity rather than accusation, and that’s what makes him unique. 

Gendry has a way of seeing the good in people first, a skill Arya hasn’t quite mastered yet. For that alone, she feels vindicated in giving him her perspective. He doesn’t deserve to carry that bitter weight for the rest of his life. 

“Don’t fixate on all the things Robert didn’t do. Yes, he did leave you and your mom to fend for yourselves and that’s fucked up on so many levels, but he also took you in without question as soon as she passed. He brought you to Winterfell when he realized that he couldn’t give you what you needed, because his own family is a bunch of power-hungry miscreants-“

She can’t help herself. She’s never really gotten past her hatred of all Lannisters, even if some of them are half-Baratheon. Not when she’s been convinced for the longest time that the lions colluded with the Boltons to assassinate her father. 

While she fully recognizes her own hypocrisy, Gendry doesn’t call her out on it and she glosses over it. That’s a conversation for another time. 

“You know it’s more complicated than that.” 

Arya wishes there was less resignation in his voice. 

“I know it is.” 

She places a tentative hand across his heart as she speaks, still a bit fearful that he will pull away from her. 

“I recognize that it’s easier said than done, but I also know that you’re better than all this. You’re patient, you’re kind. You never shirk responsibility like Robert did. You take care of those around you – and all these qualities that I love so much about you – you risk them all if you let this resentment get to you.”

There’s a long stretch of silence during which Arya catalogues the shift of emotions on Gendry’s face. His eyes are trained somewhere beyond her, and she doesn’t rush him, knows it’s a lot to take in.

He looks back at her eventually, eyes locking on hers and lips pulling up into an affectionate smirk as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. 

“When did you become so eloquent, hmm?” 

She’s not sure if it’s a diversion tactic, but she indulges him anyway.

“Ugh, it must be the two oratory classes I had to take this semester. I understand the need for effective public speaking skills as an international relations major, but why two is beyond me.” 

“To keep you well rounded, I guess.” Gendry supplies with a hint of mirth and she makes a noncommittal sound, remembering how utterly repetitive the classes felt. 

They lapse into silence again after that but it’s brief. 

“I get what you’re saying, I really do, but I just –“ Gendry shuts his eyes then, inhaling sharply before looking at her again, “I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever get there.”

There’s a pause again, and then his face breaks into a smile once more.

“I’m willing to try though.” 

“Yeah?” 

It’s hard to conceal her relief at his words. It feels like they’ve just overcome quite the hurdle, and if possible, it makes her affection for him grow. 

“Yes, but I might be in need of positive reinforcement from time to time.” 

The glint in his eye is unmistakable, and before Arya can even entertain bridging the gap between them, Gendry hauls her towards him. 

“Oh yeah? What might that be?” She grins at him, throwing her leg over his waist and finally straddling him like she wanted to earlier. 

“Telling me what you love about me like you just did is a good place to start.” 

It’s said partially in jest, but there’s a deeper meaning there. 

An image flashes in her mind’s eye of the first time she met Gendry, a tall, grumpy kid with a mess of curls and a look of pure distrust on his face.

If she had met him in college, she probably wouldn’t have known the extent to which he had been deprived of love after his mother died; never quite fitting in anywhere, always wondering if he was the extra baggage his father didn’t want to carry. 

So yeah, it is cheesy and probably goes against everything Arya has ever stood for, but if Gendry needs to hear that she loves him, she has no problem shouting it from the rooftops.

“I’ll make t-shirts.” 

The quip spills out of her unprompted and the pure look of adoration on Gendry’s face nearly knocks her breath away. 

He reaches for her hand and kisses each knuckle as his eyes hold hers.

“Come with me to Robb’s wedding. As my girlfriend.” 

She’s not expecting it, hasn’t even thought about the wedding despite getting her invite in the mail days ago. 

“You sure?” 

She has to ask, has to make sure he isn’t doing this just to appease her. His comfort is a bigger priority than her family knowing about them, especially since she’s absolutely certain they will be happy for them. 

“Yes,” Gendry smiles easily at her, his blue eyes are beacons of light in the dimness of the room. 

Arya can no more stop the surge of warmth that goes through her, than she can stop herself from leaning forward and kissing him soundly on the mouth. 

“Then yes, I’d love to.” she says when they pull apart, “someone has to keep you away from all of my mom’s friends who will inevitably try to set you up with their daughters.”

Gendry’s laugh seemingly reverberates through his entire body, reminding Arya that they’re still pressed against one another and he’s still very much naked.

“My protector,” he says affectionately, before sliding his hand to the back of her neck and guiding her mouth to his again. 

This time, his kiss is more insistent, and Arya responds in kind, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away to kiss along his jaw. 

His fingers stay buried in her hair, even as she moves down his chest, lips brushing along his sternum and then down the ridges of his stomach. She keeps her gaze trained on him as she shoves the duvet all the way down. Heat pools low in her belly at the unconcealed want that darkens his eyes to a vivid cobalt. 

She continues to watch him as her hand wraps around his length, as she feels the swell of him in her grasp, as she gives him an experimental squeeze. 

When his eyes drop to half-mast and he shudders out her name, Arya thinks about how right she was earlier. 

He really is so fucking beautiful and he’s hers and all she really wants right now is to give him a really excellent blow job. 

With that in mind, Arya leans down and takes him into her mouth. Gendry stills beneath her for just a moment. Then as she swipes her tongue along the tip, while taking even more of him in, he lets out a groan that comes from deep inside his throat, sending shock waves all the way down to her clit. 

She starts to suck in earnest, alternating between curling her tongue and stroking the base. 

He’s thick and smooth, and when she uses just a little teeth, he bucks into her mouth. 

Her own thoughts drift to earlier that evening, how good he felt inside her, how he had stretched her cunt, and pushed into places nobody ever has, wrenching pleasure that she hadn’t even thought was possible. 

It makes her want to do the same for him, to see him fall apart with the same vigor he manages to pull from her. She moves her hand from his cock, taking more of him in as she starts to gently stroke his balls, knowing that’ll push him towards release much faster. 

Gendry arches into her hand, murmuring her name in between gasps of air. 

It brings Arya back to the present moment, to the taste of him, to the smell of him, the sounds he makes as he responds so eagerly to her tongue and hands. His own fingers are nearly trembling as they dance across her shoulders, her neck, before disappearing back into her hair. 

Gendry gives her a particularly rough tug as she circles her tongue around the tip again. A rare string of curses slips past his lips as he grows more and more desperate. Arya doesn’t stop, doesn’t change her rhythm for a second, knowing that he’s incredibly close. 

As if on cue, a moment later, he arches into her mouth a final time, before his cock starts to spasm and she feels his release slide down her throat. 

It always surprises her how quietly Gendry comes, as if the intensity is so overwhelming he doesn’t know how to express it. His breath comes out in sharp spurts though and she keeps him in her mouth until he falls completely slack, relaxing back into the mattress.

Arya releases him and sits up, massaging her neck to get the inevitable kink out. 

“You okay?” His voice is even raspier than earlier, sending another wave of heat to her cunt. 

Arya ignores it in favor of admiring Gendry in the afterglow, which quite possibly makes her wetter. 

It has less to do with how unbelievably sexy he looks all relaxed and naked underneath her, and more to do with the concern he shows her. He’s constantly checking in with her, making sure she’s okay. It makes her wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it, or if it’s a subconscious desire to take care of her.

She reckons it’s the latter, and while she prides herself on being independent and not needing anyone to take care of her, his concern has always felt different. 

He’s never tried to own her, knows exactly who she is, and simply wants to love her, nothing more. 

Arya rolls her neck one more time before leaning forward and kissing him softly, “shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” 

She lets out a yelp as Gendry unexpectedly flips them over.

“I’m pretty perfect, I’d say.” He says looking down at her with eyes that are positively sparkling. 

The last thought that crosses Arya’s mind before Gendry presses his lips against her skin is how true that statement really is. 

xxx

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Arya slowly loses interest in keeping their relationship a secret. 

There’s no official announcement, social media or otherwise. She can’t be bothered to update her profile, while Gendry doesn’t even have a Facebook or Instagram - a heated point of contention between him and Sansa. 

When they go out with their friends after finals are over though, Arya doesn’t bother separating from him like they normally would when they enter the bar. Later on when she’s a little tipsy, she also doesn’t temper her desire to kiss him while they all listen to Hot Pie’s animated story about the new dessert chef at his restaurant.

Their closest mutual friend doesn’t even blink as Arya pulls away from Gendry, and Arya sees out of the corner of her eye how Gilly looks over at Sam and mouths, “finally.” 

Her family is a little more complicated though. Arya still isn’t sure how to properly tell them about her and Gendry, especially in the midst of Robb’s upcoming nuptials. So, she says nothing; and it goes unspoken in their group of friends that nobody will be sharing this particular new development with any of the other Starks. 

They do almost get caught by Sansa one night. 

Arya accidentally picks up on her sister’s FaceTime at the precise moment that Gendry enters her bedroom carrying a stack of grilled cheeses and two glasses of water, all while in her bathrobe. 

Arya immediately angles the phone away, signaling Gendry to be quiet, but Sansa is way too shrewd for that. She doesn’t call Arya out but she does send her a text later that simply reads:

**I knew it.**

Arya doesn’t even bother denying it, figures that in a month’s time, everyone else will find out anyway so what’s the point of pretending.

As it turns out, they don’t end up having to tell her family anything. 

Rickon’s last away game of the season lands him in King’s Landing, and while his team is training at a soccer field not too far from the university, he spots Arya and Gendry walking down the street holding hands, completely oblivious to their surroundings. 

He thinks nothing of it, Arya has always been weirdly close with Uncle Robert’s son. But then they stop and Rickon has to turn away, because watching his sister make out with anyone, let alone someone he’s known since he was a baby is just… _gross._

Not one to miss out on an opportunity to embarrass his seemingly unflappable sister, he does snap a pic and sends it to the Stark sibling group chat. 

The response is instantaneous. 

**Bran: Now all is well in the world.**

**Sansa: Jon, you owe me and Bran 50 dragons each.**

**Jon: What? When? How did this happen? Was this going on when we visited?**

**Sansa: I’m pretty sure, but I’ll let Arya answer that one.**

**Jon: She’s obviously busy *eyeroll emoji*.**

**Bran: Will you be using Venmo for your payment then or…?**

**Rickon: Uh, can I get in on that?**

**Jon: Ugh. Swindlers.**

**Robb: WHAT?!! WAIT!! Was it Gen she snuck out of her apt that one night?!! Arya…answer me!**

Arya doesn’t see the messages until later, but when she does, she can’t help the laugh that escapes. 

“What?” Gendry asks her. 

“Oh nothing,” she says, figuring he’ll find out eventually, and she really doesn’t want her siblings’ shenanigans to ruin their lovely afternoon. 

It’s a beautiful day, finals are done, the sun is shining, and she’s got nothing but time to sit on this park bench with her boyfriend and catch up on her reading. 

When Gendry doesn’t seem convinced, she grabs his chin and kisses him softly, “everything is perfect,” she assures him.

And it is, it really is.

xxx


End file.
